


you don’t have to work to make it feel like home

by AuroraWest, Nonexistenz



Category: Doctor Strange (2016), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Developing Relationship, Domestic, Domestic Boyfriends, Domestic Fluff, Family Dinners, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, POV Loki (Marvel), Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-04
Updated: 2021-01-04
Packaged: 2021-03-14 07:21:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28541706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AuroraWest/pseuds/AuroraWest, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nonexistenz/pseuds/Nonexistenz
Summary: It was sostupidto be nervous. His fears didn’t even have form; he was simply concerned that…something, anything, would go wrong. Stephen would realize he’d become involved in something that was far more work than he’d realized—far more work even than Loki was by himself, and that was saying something—and he would excuse himself halfway through dinner and sayMaybe we shouldn’t see each other anymore.Loki and Stephen have been together for two months and that can only mean one thing: it's time for a family dinner.
Relationships: Jane Foster & Loki & Stephen Strange & Thor, Jane Foster & Loki & Thor, Jane Foster & Stephen Strange, Jane Foster/Thor, Loki & Thor (Marvel), Loki/Stephen Strange, Stephen Strange & Thor
Comments: 10
Kudos: 59
Collections: Froststrange Week 2021





	you don’t have to work to make it feel like home

**Author's Note:**

> For Froststrange Week, Day 3, prompt: domestic.
> 
> Thank you to nonexistenz for her beautiful art!!

Why was it that none of his clothes were suitable? Why did he have _nothing_ that he liked, let alone that he could wear tonight? Why was it that everything he put on was _wrong_ in some way?

Loki glared at his reflection in the mirror and ran a hand through his hair, still damp from the shower. The suit was too formal. If they were going somewhere, fine. But sitting in his own house, where he would easily be the best dressed, felt silly—like putting on a costume. But a sweater felt too _informal_ , even his nice sweaters.

He checked the timer on his phone. Still seven minutes before he needed to check on dinner. Considering he’d been at this for twice that amount of time, he wasn’t optimistic that something was going to manifest to him in the next seven minutes—or rather six minutes and forty-five seconds, now—as the perfect outfit.

Crossing his arms over his chest and chewing at the inside of his cheek, he surveyed the contents of his wardrobe, which were strewn over his bed. He’d narrowed it down to three choices, none of which were satisfactory. If he wore his green shirt, could he wear it with _just_ the tie, but no jacket? Would that look idiotic? Perhaps just the shirt, no tie, but that made him look like he wasn’t trying—

“Aren’t you cooking?” Thor’s voice asked from behind him.

Loki started, then turned around. “I’m multitasking,” he replied.

Thor looked vaguely amused. “I’m not sure you can count getting dressed as multitasking.”

“My clothes are terrible,” Loki informed him. “I can’t wear any of this tonight.”

His brother’s face went from vaguely amused to rather more than vaguely amused. “It’s just dinner at home. You’re not attending a court function.”

Running his thumbnail over the pads of his other fingers, Loki said, “It’s _not_ just dinner at home, actually. It’s more important than that.”

“Thanks.”

Normally, Loki would have smirked and returned Thor’s sarcasm with more of his own—far more effective sarcasm, too—but now he just turned back to his clothing. Behind him, Thor took a step into the room. “Are you nervous?” he asked.

Loki bit the inside of his cheek harder. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

The green shirt was probably best. It was nice but not _too_ nice, and he thought it could carry the outfit by itself even without a tie. “If you’re not nervous,” Thor said, “then why are you so fidgety?” He came further into the room and stood beside Loki, bumping a fist against Loki’s shoulder. “There’s nothing to be nervous about, brother.”

“That’s easy for you to say,” Loki snapped. “Anyway, as I recall, the first time Jane came over, you went on a cleaning spree the likes of which I’ve never _seen_ from you, so I hardly think I would talk.” When Thor gave him an unimpressed look, Loki sighed, ran a hand through his hair again, and said, “Sorry. Perhaps…perhaps I’m a _bit_ nervous.”

At this admission, Thor patted his shoulder. “It’s alright. But you needn’t worry—I’ll only make things _moderately_ awkward for Stephen, and I won’t imply that he has to kill anyone to win your hand. At least, I’ll try not to.”

Loki stared at him flatly.

This, of course, made Thor grin. “Come on, Loki. We’ve all known Stephen for years. There’s nothing to be nervous about. He’s just coming over for dinner.”

“He’s coming over for dinner as my—” Loki stuttered over the right word. Stephen would say ‘boyfriend,’ but Loki hated that. ‘Lover’ didn’t seem like the sort of thing one should say to one’s brother. Paramour? Absurdly old-fashioned. Sweetheart was no better than boyfriend—in fact, it might have been worse. “—as my friend,” Loki finally finished.

“Your friend,” Thor repeated.

“Yes.”

“He texted you an eggplant and a peach emoji.”

Immediately, Loki colored. “Why are you reading my texts?”

Indignantly, Thor said, “I couldn’t help it! You told me to watch that video with the cow playing fetch and it arrived while I was holding your phone!” When Loki scowled, Thor added, “Do you think I _want_ to read my little brother’s racy text messages? I wouldn’t have thought he’d say things like that, if I’m being honest; he seems a bit stuffy—”

“Are you done?” Loki asked, mortified. Stephen Strange, _stuffy._ Imagine. The Stephen Strange that Loki knew wasn’t stuffy at all. This was what he got for taking his job as Sorcerer Supreme so seriously—people thought he was uptight. Then again, perhaps he didn’t necessarily mind people not knowing that he was capable of sexting, and that his turns of phrase could be…vivid.

With a grin, Thor picked up the green shirt and said, “Just put this one on.”

Loki didn’t know whether to be pleased or annoyed that Thor had chosen the shirt that he’d mostly decided on. He’d be both, he supposed. Grudgingly, he pulled it on over his undershirt, buttoning it up, then reaching for his pants. “Do I look alright?” he asked as he fastened them, wondering why he even bothered. Thor’s sartorial choices were questionable at best. Hm. What did that say about Loki, that Thor had picked out the same shirt he had? Earth, and his brother, might be rubbing off on him.

The timer on his phone went off. Time to check on dinner. But he raised an eyebrow at Thor, waiting for an answer. “Oh,” Thor said. “Do you actually care? I assumed you were about to follow that up with something snippy about what I’m wearing.”

“No,” Loki said. “I mean, yes, I care.”

“In that case, yes, you look fine.”

Loki eyed him. “But _is_ that what you plan on wearing?”

Crossing his arms over his chest, Thor asked, “What’s wrong with it?”

Honestly. Loki sidled past him, pocketing his phone, and headed downstairs to the kitchen. “There’s a _stain_ on your shirt, brother.”

There was a noise of acknowledgement behind him, and Thor called down, “Well, for your _friend_ , I suppose I’ll put on a clean shirt.”

If Stephen hadn’t already known Thor, Loki probably would have wept. But Stephen—fortunately or not— _did_ know Thor, so Loki tried to comfort himself with the thought that he wouldn’t be too horrified. Stephen’s fashion sense wasn’t much to speak of, either. At least Loki could count on Jane to be in something clean, even if it was also likely to be flannel. He sighed.

Dinner was coming along nicely. It was a fish stew, North African inspired, because Loki liked the spices. The fish was locally caught, the other flavors were decidedly not—but to be honestly, when you were from a different planet, a region that was only a few thousand miles away still felt quite local. He had to make the couscous, but that wouldn’t take long. He’d wait until they were about to sit down to dinner.

His stomach twisted as he looked at his phone. Norns. It was so _stupid_ to be nervous. His fears didn’t even have form; he was simply concerned that…something, anything, who knew what, things would find a way, would go wrong. Stephen would realize he’d become involved in something that was far more work than he’d realized—far more work even than Loki was by himself, and that was saying something—and he would excuse himself halfway through dinner and say _Maybe we shouldn’t see each other anymore_.

Did Loki really think that was going to happen? He closed his eyes and stirred the stew, breathing in the scene of cinnamon and cumin. It was a fear, but if he actually deconstructed it, he knew it wasn’t something that was likely to happen tonight.

Covering the stew again, he looked down at his fingernails, freshly painted black, and took another deep breath. He trusted Stephen. Stephen had never lied to him, and Stephen said he wanted to be with Loki. Ergo, Stephen would not unceremoniously break up with him, even if this family dinner was supremely awkward. Which it didn’t have to be. It might not be.

His stomach unknotted and he ran a hand through his hair again, his fingers catching at the curls. There had been a time when he’d hated his curly hair. He’d come to accept, even, perhaps, appreciate it. When Loki had mentioned to Stephen that he’d used to despise the natural curl in his hair, that he’d kept it short and slicked down for much of his youth, Stephen had said, “Really?” and buried his fingers in it. He hadn’t even said that he loved it this way, shoulder-blade length and loosely curly, but Loki could hear it in his voice. So that didn’t hurt.

He curled his fingers against his palms and dropped his hands to his sides, turning to look out the window. The sun was still fairly high in the sky, casting early evening light across the fjord. The day had been breezy and cool, winter refusing to unhook its fingers from Norway, even though it was May. It had been nice to be able to open the window in the kitchen while he’d been preparing dinner, though.

Just then, there was a knock at the front door. A bolt went through Loki, the same feeling he’d been getting for years at the sight of Stephen, or even the promise of his presence. Before anyone else could get to the door, he strode out of the kitchen, through the living room, and pulled it open.

“Hi,” Loki said, unable to stop the bright smile from flickering over his face.

Stephen Strange was standing there, a bottle of wine cradled in the crook of his arm and a lopsided smile on his face. “Hey,” he replied.

Loki grabbed both sides of his cardigan and pulled him into the house, kicking the door shut and pushing Stephen against it. With an inarticulate noise, he leaned forward, slipping his hands along either side of Stephen’s head, and kissed him insistently. Hooking his arm around Loki’s back, Stephen kissed him back.

“Hello, Stephen!” Thor said—practically sang—from the top of the stairs.

Honestly, sometimes Loki regretted the many times he’d saved his brother’s life.

Abruptly pulling away from Stephen, Loki turned around and glared up at Thor. Making this awkward already, clearly.

Thor thumped down the stairs, grinning. “I see Loki is mauling you already. He spent a long time showering; I thought he was getting some of that out of his system—”

Heat bloomed across Loki’s face. “You—” he spluttered.

There was a noise from Stephen that sounded like a muffled snort of laughter. As Thor reached the bottom of the stairs, Stephen held out the bottle of wine and said, “Thanks for having me over.”

Thor took the bottle of wine, and when Stephen extended a hand, Thor ignored it and pulled him into a hug. “You’re family now!” Thor said, clapping him on the shoulder once he’d released Stephen. “Family doesn’t shake hands.”

For once, Stephen looked taken aback, which made Loki smile slightly. Obviously, Thor _was_ being presumptuous, but he also wasn’t wrong. Loki had chosen Stephen Strange; given his heart to him. That was nauseatingly sentimental, but it was also true. Thor knew Loki; knew what it had taken for this to come to pass. So yes, Stephen was family.

Unfortunately for him, that meant that Thor would consider it open season on teasing.

Clapping Stephen on the shoulder again, Thor said, “Jane and I assumed you hadn’t visited yet because the two of you can’t keep your hands off each other long enough to go out in public.”

“Don’t involve me in this, I _never_ said that,” Jane said from upstairs. She came thundering down the stairs too, her tread somehow just as heavy as Thor’s, and threw her arms around Stephen. “But I’m glad Loki finally listened to us and invited you over.”

Smiling crookedly, Stephen said, “Yeah, I don’t know, he seemed to think it would be embarrassing, for some reason.”

“I hate all of you,” Loki announced, snatching the bottle of wine from Thor and marching into the kitchen. His face was still burning. Perhaps one day someone would make a sex joke at his expense and he wouldn’t react this way, but that day was not today.

He made the couscous, listening to Stephen talk to Thor and Jane. Then, as he opened the bottle of wine, Stephen came into the kitchen, looking around curiously. “Can I have the tour? I’ve always wondered what this place looks like inside.”

Getting out four glasses, Loki said, “Let me distract my mortifying family with alcohol first.”

“I guess I should have brought a bottle for each of you, right?” One of Stephen’s eyebrows quirked up. “I know how Asgardians like to drink.”

“Hm.” As he poured the wine, Loki said, “A glass is enough for Thor. Midsummer is soon enough—he can get drunk then.”

Stephen came closer, leaning against the counter, his eyes tracking Loki’s movements. It made Loki feel…desirable. Sexy. Being watched while he was doing something so simple, something completely non-sexual, but seeing the effect his movements and presence had on Stephen—it was an intoxicating feeling.

Handing a glass to Stephen, Loki held a hand out and said, “Behold, the kitchen.”

“I like the chicken wallpaper,” Stephen said. “I’m pretty sure my cousin in Nebraska has the same stuff.”

“It was on sale,” Loki said loftily. This was not true. It hadn’t been on sale. He’d just liked it. Jane had thought it was funny that even aliens had decided that their kitchen needed chicken decor. “You have a cousin in Nebraska?”

“Yeah.” Stephen made a face. “Her house smells like latex. It’s weird. I always hated going there.”

Loki snorted and Stephen grinned, and Loki couldn’t help but think how wonderful Stephen was, and how he could have been with anyone. Well, alright. He was actually quite insufferable, a know-it-all and a show-off, but he was also so funny, so intelligent, so _good_ , that Loki couldn’t understand how he’d still been single. It didn’t seem right that everyone had passed him over—it actually annoyed him a bit that people hadn’t seen how special he was—and then he remembered that if they hadn’t, then Loki wouldn’t be with him now.

He sipped at his own glass of wine to hide some of this, which was overwrought. And that was putting it kindly, to be quite honest. Still. He was in love, and the man that made him happier than he’d ever imagined being was standing here with him, smiling a bit stupidly as he gazed at Loki. He thought he was entitled to be just a bit overwrought.

“Back door,” Loki said, pointing. “That other door is a bathroom for Thor to hose himself off when he comes back from the docks.”

“Never an issue for you, I guess?” Stephen asked, his eyebrow still quirked.

“Stephen, please. Do you really think I _ever_ need to be hosed off?” He thought about what he was saying. This talk of back doors and being hosed off could possibly be misconstrued. And clearly, Stephen heard it too, because there was a certain mischievousness to his smile. “Anyway,” he said briskly, “Jane and I try not to go in there unless we absolutely have to. The fishy smell never _quite_ goes away, no matter what any of us do to clean it.”

Sipping at his wine, Stephen said, “Noted.”

Loki picked up two glasses to bring them out to Thor and Jane, leaving his own to be retrieved later. But Stephen picked it up without asking, which was a small thing but made Loki want to kiss him. After he delivered the wine to Thor and Jane and informed them to leave Stephen and him alone for the next fifteen minutes, if they could contain themselves, he showed Stephen the porch (four seasons, though it could get chilly in the winter), then brought him upstairs.

Standing in the hallway with Stephen, which was always dark, even when it was bright outside, was a surreal experience. This was his _home_ , a place that he had imagined being with Stephen so many times. The reality of it made Loki feel, perversely, as though it could slip through his fingers.

He put a hand out and wrapped it around Stephen’s arm, gripping at his bicep through the fabric of his cardigan. Immediately, Stephen put a hand to the side of Loki’s neck, meeting Loki’s eyes. Loki saw the same feeling reflected back at him.

“It’s darker up here than I always imagined,” Stephen said.

“You imagined this?”

Stephen leaned forward and kissed him softly. “You’re joking, right?” His other hand cupped the other side of Loki’s face, and he added, “I imagined this…probably more than I should admit to.”

Squeezing Stephen’s arm again, Loki smiled slightly and asked, “How is it comparing so far?”

With another kiss, Stephen said, “Better. Kind of figured I’d be in here taking care of some kind of magical disaster.”

With a smile, Loki said, “And I wouldn’t have let you see my bedroom if that was the case.” When Stephen waggled his eyebrows, Loki laughed and pushed his bedroom door open.

It wasn’t much, just like everything in the house. _Enough_ was about all that could be said for it. His entire bedroom wasn’t much larger than his bed had been on Asgard. The thing had been massive; at the time, Loki hadn’t been able to imagine not being able to lay spread-eagled on it with plenty of room to spare. Now, his bed was large enough for two people to sleep side by side, but there wasn’t much room to spread out. Whomever Loki shared it with, they would have no choice but to sleep close to each other.

He eyed Stephen. The thought wasn’t unpleasant. Perhaps tonight. They hadn’t discussed him staying the night, but now that he was here, Loki couldn’t fathom letting him leave.

Stephen stepped inside and looked around, his eyes moving from the table near the door, to the small bookshelf, the dresser, the wardrobe, the bedside table, and finally the bed. He looked…delighted.

“A bit embarrassing for the former Prince of Asgard.” Loki snorted. “Good enough for the Prince of New Asgard though, I suppose.”

“It’s pretty charming,” Stephen said.

“It’s serviceable,” Loki replied. It was tight, actually, especially with the amount of furniture he had crammed in there. He considered the bed. If Stephen had imagined what the inside of the Odinson/Foster residence had looked like, well, Loki had certainly imagined Stephen in his bed. And on the dresser, against the wall. Silhouetted against the light from the window, wearing nothing and beckoning Loki closer. It was tempting to make at least one of those fantasies a reality right now—but he supposed he’d only asked Thor and Jane to leave them alone for fifteen minutes. Anyway, everyone was probably hungry, and he didn’t want the couscous to burn.

Loki sighed. Judging by the look on Stephen’s face, it was no mystery what he was thinking about. Could he be blamed? He’d wanted Stephen for years. They had a lot of lost time to make up for.

Before he could imagine what that would entail too vividly—which would make it embarrassing to go downstairs; he’d have to tie a sweater around his waist or something and _everyone_ would know what he was up to—he led Stephen out of his bedroom, showed him Jane’s office, the upstairs bathroom, and pointed out Thor’s and Jane’s room, though he didn’t bring Stephen inside.

Then they tromped back down the stairs. Thor was setting the table, and he looked at them, grinning. “Oh. You actually came back.” Raising his voice, he shouted, “Jane, you won!”

“I didn’t actually agree to that bet!” she yelled back.

“We thought you’d be longer than fifteen minutes,” Thor said. “You know. Giving Stephen the “tour” to your bedroom.”

“I hate you,” Loki informed him for the second time in the past fifteen minutes. When Thor guffawed, Loki gave him a flat look and turned to Stephen. “We can go; there’s no reason for you to be subjected to this.”

Jane came in, carrying a pitcher of water. “Loki, haven’t we talked about empty threats? _But_ Thor’s done; it’s out of his system now.”

“Is it?” Thor asked, scrunching his face like he was thinking very hard about this and had come to the exact opposite conclusion.

Stephen looked like he was trying very hard not to laugh. Loki was glad someone besides Thor found this amusing.

The stew was done, and it smelled good. Loki took a moment to admire his own cooking. It was funny to think that a few years ago, the most cooking he’d known how to do was to heat something up over a fire or in a microwave. It was satisfying to be able to create something useful. Everyone liked food—being good in the kitchen was always going to be a skill people appreciated. Plus, it was hard for Stephen to cook, so things had worked out in that way, as well.

When he brought the stew in, he told the others to sit down. Stephen offered to help him but Loki just told him to sit again. They hardly ever used the dining room table. There wasn’t _really_ a dining room, technically, just a section of the living room that they’d put a table in.

They started to eat and Stephen said, “Hey. This is really good.”

“I told you I could cook,” Loki said. “Surely you didn’t think I was _lying?_ ”

Stephen grinned at him. “Pretty sure you’ve never lied about anything in your life, right?”

“Right,” Loki said, arching an eyebrow.

Next to him, Jane and Thor exchanged an amused look. Yes, fine, alright, Stephen and he were definitely flirting, rather shamelessly, but Loki couldn’t _help_ it. Stephen got that gleam in his eyes, that crooked pull to his lips, and what was Loki supposed to do? _Not_ flirt with him?

Jane put her wine to her mouth, then stopped and plunked it back down on the table. “We should toast,” she said.

“We don’t need to do that,” Loki said immediately.

“We’re toasting,” she said, fixing him with a Look. Sort of hard to believe she hadn’t _always_ been a Valkyrie when she got that expression on her face. Raising her glass, she said, “To—”

“Please don’t say ‘new love,’” Loki interrupted. Thor kicked him under the table.

Jane smirked and said, “To old love,” she said. “Love that’s finally realized and acted on.”

Looking at Loki, Stephen said, “That makes us sound sort of clueless.”

“You were,” she said, holding out her glass.

“Not much point in denying that,” Thor agreed.

With a snort, Loki said, “That’s a joke, I presume? I can deny anything.”

“Not sure if that’s something I’d brag about,” Stephen mumbled, though he shot Loki a smile.

Jane cleared her throat. “We’re toasting, guys.”

Raising his glass, Stephen said, “To cluelessness.”

This had turned from something sort of sweet to a bit of a joke at their expense, but despite that, Loki’s chest felt full of…happiness. Joy. And it helped that, mercifully, Thor stopped willfully embarrassing Loki for the rest of the meal. It was nice, actually, and made Loki regret, just a bit, that he’d dragged his feet on this get-together.

After dinner, Loki volunteered to wash dishes. When he told Stephen that he could feel free to stay with Thor and Jane, Stephen followed him into the kitchen—which pleased Loki, though he acted as though it didn’t matter very much either way.

As Loki scrubbed at plates, Stephen said, “So I definitely didn’t expect to be considered part of the family already.”

Putting a clean plate in the dish rack, Loki asked, “Too much too soon?”

“No.” Hands slipped onto his waist and suddenly Loki could feel Stephen’s body heat at his back. “My family was never like this. The joking and teasing, that…” Stephen hesitated. “…That definitely wasn’t a thing we did.”

“It’s sort of a recent development with us,” Loki replied, washing another plate. “There wasn’t all that much joking around over dinner in the Golden Hall.”

“Yeah, your dad doesn’t really strike me as a jokey guy.”

“When I was young, perhaps,” Loki said distantly. “I suppose things didn’t weigh as heavily on him…even though all the problems that came to distress him existed even when Thor and I were children.” Shaking himself, he put a soapy hand over Stephen’s, sitting on his hip, feeling like home. “Anyway. I would have been surprised if being welcomed into the family so soon had frightened you off. If nothing else has already…”

Stephen laughed and squeezed Loki’s hip. “Feels like sort of a trap.”

“It’s no mystery to me that I’m challenging.”

“Uh…yeah, still feels like a trap.”

Loki laughed and turned his head to kiss whatever part of Stephen he would reach, which happened to be the corner of his eyebrow. “I’m not sure I’ve ever seen you be quite so diplomatic.”

In answer, Stephen kissed the back of his neck. And he didn’t move away—in fact, he did the opposite, sliding his arms around Loki’s midsection and holding him tighter. It probably didn’t make washing dishes any easier, but Loki didn’t care. New love—or at least, old love that it had taken them years to act on. Who cared if it made it awkward to grab the stockpot from the counter to settle it in the sink?

“Did you really jack off in the shower before I got here?” Stephen asked, brushing his nose over the side of Loki’s face.

Feeling himself turn red, Loki said, “No.”

With a low chuckle in Loki’s ear, Stephen said, “I’d be flattered. And turned on.”

What a dilemma; he certainly _had_ gotten himself off thinking about Stephen—many, many times over the years, including before they were together, and he _very_ much wanted to turn Stephen on, but he _hadn’t_ done it in the shower before Stephen’s arrival today.

“I really didn’t,” Loki said, scrubbing at the pot.

Stephen laughed again, tightening his arms around Loki’s waist. “That’s a little disappointing, actually. I was thinking about it during dinner.”

Pressing his lips together to hide a smile, Loki asked, “Oh? Tell me more.”

He felt lips on his ear; a soft kiss, and then a tug at his earlobe. “Let’s put it this way,” Stephen murmured. “The good thing about being a guest is no one expects you to get up from the table.”

Turning his head to look at Stephen, Loki arched an eyebrow and said, “Doctor Strange, are you admitting to becoming _aroused_ at a family dinner with my brother and sister-in-law?”

“There wouldn’t have been any hiding it,” Stephen said, grinning crookedly.

Loki put a hand, dripping with water and soap suds, on the back of Stephen’s head. Pulling him closer, he kissed him hard, opening Stephen’s mouth with his tongue and making a muffled noise. As he turned to face Stephen, Stephen moved his hands, sliding them up Loki’s back to dig them into his shoulder blades. Experimentally, Loki pushed his hips into Stephen’s, just to see if he could provoke the same reaction now.

There was a promising swell there already. “Deeply inappropriate,” Loki breathed into his mouth. “Almost as inappropriate as what I’m going to do to you.”

With a laugh, Stephen pushed Loki back against the sink, his hips rolling against Loki’s. “Can’t wait,” he said. “Are we doing that here?”

Loki cupped both his hands around Stephen’s head, burying his fingers in Stephen’s hair, and kissed him more slowly. Or perhaps it was just with more implication behind it; more heat, more promise. More tongue, if nothing else. “Well, I thought perhaps upstairs might be better,” Loki finally replied, as one of Stephen’s hands traced down his spine, slipping over his arse. “Spend the night.”

“Are you allowed to have boys in your room?” Stephen asked.

“Oh, shut up.”

When Stephen laughed, Loki kissed him again, until Stephen pulled back and added, “I’ve never done the walk of shame from one of the Nine Realms.”

Loki rolled his eyes, though he was fighting hard not to grin. Stephen made him laugh, and it was no secret. “Are you finished?”

“Wait, let me think.” Stephen kissed him quickly, then said, “Mmm, okay. Yeah. I’m done,” before catching Loki’s mouth in his again. The kiss became slower, deeper, and Loki slipped his hands over Stephen’s arse, squeezing. Stephen let out a tiny groan into his mouth. “Can we leave those dishes?”

“ _That_ would be irresponsible,” Loki breathed. If anyone came into the kitchen, there would be no hiding the fact that _both_ of them had something on their minds besides cleaning up. He reached over and turned the sink off, and then his hand slipped between Stephen’s legs. Definitely no hiding what was on their minds. “Let’s use your sling ring,” he said. Growled. He jammed his hips into Stephen’s. It wasn’t just that he didn’t want to walk past Thor and Jane—he didn’t want to spend the _time_ to walk out of the kitchen, through the living room, and up the stairs.

“Mm hm, good idea,” Stephen replied, the words muffled against Loki’s mouth.

Loki felt him fumble in his pocket, and then there was the sound of a portal opening behind him. Before it was even quite finished spinning open, Stephen grabbed a fistful of Loki’s shirt and yanked him backwards.

They fell onto the bed, Loki cast a spell to shut the door. If there was one thing on both their minds, then it was best to concentrate on it.


End file.
